


Of Mice and Half-dressed Men

by sempereadem



Category: Elizabeth (Movies), History - Fandom, The Tudors (TV), The Virgin Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempereadem/pseuds/sempereadem
Summary: Elizabeth invited Robert over for a day of blissful fooling around. Her parents wouldn't be home from their trip to Italy for hours. Or so she thought.





	Of Mice and Half-dressed Men

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a product of me procrastinating on my Master's application. The "mature" rating is mainly for the beginning it's a bit ... raunchy lol but nothing very explicit. Enjoy!

The open window next to the bed invited in a soothing breeze which fluttered the pale yellow curtains hanging in front of it. The smell of freshly mown grass and cement still damp from an afternoon drizzle wafted gently into the room. Spacious, yet cosy, it was the room of an eighteen-year-old girl – clothes were hung neatly in a closet that extended from one wall to the other, a vanity with a collection of makeup and skincare stood opposite. More clothes lay strewn across the floor, a girl’s blouse lying on top of a boy’s trousers. A swathe of sunlight illuminated exposed skin on the bed.

Was there anything more romantic than 3pm on a Sunday? Certainly Elizabeth Tudor didn’t think so as she gently scraped her nails, painted creamy beige, down Robert Dudley’s bare back. She loved to feel him shiver.

“Thank _God_ this place is empty,” Robert’s lips murmured into the skin of her neck, in between slow, languid kisses, “I’m not good at keeping quiet.”

“Mmm – yeah – being quiet is not one of my many skills either,” Elizabeth quipped as she added her leg to her caressing of his body, trailing it up and down his own which cause him to rub against her in _just_ the right spot and she bit her lip in delight.

“Always so modest,” he chuckled and moved his face up to kiss her, opening her mouth easily, caressing her eager tongue with his. His hands moved to her breasts, small and soft, and he felt her sharp intake of breath in his mouth. He felt himself strain against his boxers but he made no move to remove them. Despite how intimate they were with each other, despite the endless ways they touched, Robert knew Elizabeth was not ready for _that_ yet. She had made it explicitly clear that when she was ready, he would be the first to know. 

Elizabeth wasn’t quite sure why she was so hesitant to relinquish her virginity. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a silly social construct anyway but regardless, she still balked at such an – well – an _invasive_ act. She had heard so many horror stories of other girls’ first time and the last thing she wanted was for something so pleasurable, so amazing as what she had with Robert to be ruined by pain, fear and discomfort.

There was probably some deep psychological reason behind her anxiety about her virginity but Elizabeth really didn’t want to think about that now. For now, her parents were away on a business trip to Italy, they wouldn’t be back till the evening and Robert’s fingers were making there way down, down, _down_ -

“Oh!” Elizabeth gasped out loud as Robert’s hand massaged where she most wanted him. She barely even saw the point of fully losing her virginity when this felt so fucking good already. She could practically _feel_ Robert smirk against her cheek. Smug git.

“Is it okay if I…?” Robert trailed off, finishing his question by gingerly tugging at the side of her knickers. Riled up beyond endurance, Elizabeth nodded eagerly and practically laughed with relief as she felt his fingers press against her now with no barrier. She tanged her hands in his hair and his laboured breathing in her ear made her bones turn to jelly.

Sometimes it still boggled her mind that they were like this with each other at all. Robert was not just some bloke she’d taken a fancy to at school and invited back to her house for a quick fingering – he was her best friend and had been since they were children. She would be hard pressed to find someone who knew her better, save perhaps her nanny-turned-confidant, Kat. (Although she _really_ shouldn’t be thinking about Kat right now)

Now what was he? Her boyfriend? No – no, they hadn’t put a label on whatever it is they were doing, ‘boyfriend’ didn’t sound right. Lover? That sounded too antiquated. Fuck buddy? Christ, even _she_ wasn’t that crass.

In truth, Elizabeth didn’t know and sometimes that ate away at her in her more sober moments. For now, she just wanted to relax and enjoy Robert’s company – his touch, his kisses, his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled up a little when he was happy … Whatever it was that they were doing, all Elizabeth knew was that she never felt so calm as when she was with Robert. And to a girl whose mind ran a mile a minute, this was nothing short of bliss.

Elizabeth let out an impatient whine when Robert pulled his hand away but it quickly became a breathy moan as he began to kiss down the length of her body. Thank God they had hours and hours to just revel in each other’s bodies …

Or so they thought.

Elizabeth abruptly felt an absence of Robert’s warmth and she opened her eyes to see Robert almost upright, staring into the wall beside them as though he could see through it, listening intently like a deer straining to hear a predator.

“Robert, what-?” Elizabeth began with a certain amount of irritation but Robert held up a hand to silence her.

“Did you hear that?” Robert said turning to her with an apprehensive look on his face, “It sounded like a car pulling in.” 

“It’s probably just the neighbours, my window faces them,” Elizabeth dismissed his fears quickly, for once tossing aside her innate caution in favour of picking up where they left off. 

“I don’t know, it sounded pretty close-” Robert continued but broke off suddenly when they both heard a noise that struck the fear of God into them.

Keys rattling in the front door.

Robert and Elizabeth exchanged panic-stricken looks. _Her parents had returned home early_.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Elizabeth all but flung Robert off of her and began to frantically look around for her discarded clothes, “Jesus _fucking_ Christ, what the _fuck_ , shit, shit, _shit_ -“

“Elizabeth? We’re home, lovely!”

 Robert merely stared at Elizabeth, the usually over-confident youth struck dumb with fear.

“Don’t just fucking sit there, _get dressed!”_ Elizabeth whispered furiously to him, painfully aware that she was clothed in just her tiny knickers and nothing else. As Robert scrambled to right himself, Elizabeth hurried to her bedroom door and opened it a crack.

“Mum? Dad? Why are you home so early?” Elizabeth called down, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. She could hear Robert swear softly as he looked for his shirt.

“It’s a long story, come downstairs first and we’ll tell you,” she heard her father’s voice say amongst the _thuds_ of suitcases hitting the floor.

“Erm- I’ll be a minute, alright? I just got out of the shower – stark naked y’know –“ well, at least _that_ part wasn’t a lie – “- so I just have to get dressed first then I’ll come down.”

“Alright. Don’t take ages though.”

 Elizabeth nearly collapsed with relief. She had bought them a few extra minutes. Abandoning her day clothes where they lay, she dove instead for her closet where, after a few moments of digging, she fished out one of her pairs of pyjamas – lilac decorated with delicate white roses. She always changed into her pyjamas after showering; she hoped it would make it more believable.

As she pulled on her pyjamas and stuck her phone in one of its deep pockets she said, “Okay, we need to get you the fuck out of here.”

“You know we wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just _tell_ your parents about me,” Robert grumbled as he hastily fastened the belt to his trousers.

“Oh my _God_ , Robert,” Elizabeth exclaimed, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible, “We _so_ don’t have time to go over this again right now.”

Elizabeth was hit with an unwelcome wave of guilt. Robert never quite understood why she wanted to keep their relationship a secret for the time being. In his defence, she had never _given_ him a clear answer. She had her reasons: her parents were rather overprotective (particularly her mother), one of her best friend’s was Robert’s sister Mary and that would _certainly_ make things awkward, people at school were still whispering about Robert’s ex-girlfriend Amy and how Elizabeth was the reason they broke up ... and above all she was scared that if they came out as officially together it would be the point of no return. If it didn’t work out and their friendship was ruined … Elizabeth didn’t even want to think about that possibility. She couldn’t stand the idea of losing Robert.

_But what if it did work out? What then?_

Elizabeth quashed the thought down. There was no time for that right now.

“Pass me my facial spray!” Elizabeth hissed to Robert, extending her hand out expectantly. Unfortunately for her, Robert’s mind was not quite as nimble as hers and he only gave her a bemused expression.

“Your facial spray?” Robert answered with a hint of exasperation, “Elizabeth, this is no time to do your skincare routine.”

Elizabeth was _this_ close to slapping him. 

“Not for my _face_ , you idiot, for my _hair!_ ” She snapped at him, hyperaware of the soft thumping sounds of her parents’ footsteps downstairs. They were wasting so much precious time.

Understanding her sharp tone (having been on the receiving end of it multiple times) yet still not understanding her intense need for the facial spray, Robert searched her vanity until he found a likely-looking culprit – a plastic bottle filled with a pale pink liquid he assumed was rosewater, which had a label on it with a bloke called Mario Badescu as the brand name. He raised her eyebrows at her as he picked it up, silently asking, _this one?_ She nodded furiously and he tossed it to her.

“I still don’t get why you need it,” Robert said as he carried on buttoning his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the tiny holes.

Elizabeth adopted the tone one would use to explain two plus two equals four to a toddler.

“I just told my parents that I got out of the shower, Robert. Don’t you think they’d be a little suspicious if I came down with _bone dry hair_?” Elizabeth whispered harshly as she began frantically spritzing her hair in every direction. With her mane of curly, red hair it would take far longer than the few stolen seconds they had to get it convincingly wet but as long as she got it at least damp-looking, she figured she could get away with it.

At last, at long last, with Elizabeth in her pyjamas and somewhat-damp hair and Robert stuffed haphazardly into the clothes he came in, holding his shoes since his socked feet would make less noise, it was time to attempt the escape.

“Right,” Elizabeth said, putting her hands on her hips, remind Robert forcibly of a military commander about to bark orders “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go down first and chat to mum and dad, keep them distracted. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to talk about. I’ll keep their backs to the hallway and then you come downstairs, go around the staircase and take the back exit and get the hell out of here.”

“What, no last lingering looks of passionate regret?” Robert drawled, unable to help himself. He so enjoyed it when Elizabeth looked flustered like that. And as he expected, he received a sharp slap on the arm for his cheek but he noticed a distinct flush in her face. What he didn’t expect was for Elizabeth to stand on her tiptoes and soften the blow with a kiss. She could be as soft as she was sharp.

“I’m trying to get you out of here in one piece,” Elizabeth whispered as they parted, “I prefer you like that, you know.”

Robert would have responded but at that moment, Henry Tudor’s very distinctive voice called out, “Elizabeth?” They were taking too long.

“Coming, one second!” Elizabeth answered, masterfully blending a bit of teenaged annoyance into her voice, as though she were still getting dressed and frustrated and her dad’s impatience.

“Wait five minutes,” Elizabeth whispered to Robert, pointing at him, “So I can get them talking and away from the hallway. Then get out and text me when you’ve reached the bus station.”

Robert nodded and gave her the thumbs up even though he already felt his heart pounding somewhere in the region of his throat.

With a swish of curly red hair, the faint scent of rosewater following her, Elizabeth spun on her heel and made her way downstairs.

Robert never before felt such an urgent need to pray.

* * *

 

“Hiya,” Elizabeth said as casually as she could when she reached the living room. “You’re home early.”

“Yes, and it was a nightmare,” Elizabeth’s mother, Anne, said as she swung her heavy carrier bag onto an armchair and collapsed onto the sofa behind her, blowing her dark hair out of her face. As a child, Elizabeth had been beset by “She looks just like her father!” comments, but now that she was growing older, her resemblance to her mother was becoming more and more obvious. Elizabeth’s long, striking face with her high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes with their deep chocolate colour was the spitting image of her mother – Anne Boleyn dressed in Tudor colours. Elizabeth was secretly delighted. She had always admired her mother’s looks – she remembered watching her mother put on her makeup as a child and envying her natural elegance, her silky dark brown hair.

“Well that’s not good,” Elizabeth said, slowly making her way towards the other side of the room where the fireplace was, in order for her parents to naturally turn to look at her. At whatever cost, she had to keep their backs to the hallway. “What happened?”

Henry sighed and ran a hand through his now somewhat thinning but still bright red hair. “Our private flight home got cancelled – engine problems or something – and we were put on an _earlier_ commercial flight which still had seats in First Class. And that meant we suddenly had half a day less than originally thought so we had to scramble to pack and leave the hotel.”

“That’s weird, I feel like usually you get put on a _later_ flight if yours is cancelled?” Elizabeth asked and couldn’t help but feel extremely annoyed that the airline hadn’t chosen this solution instead. She could have had a lot more time with Robert. 

“Ordinarily, yeah,” Anne said as she leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. Her line of sight was dangerously close to the hallway but, mercifully, her gaze was on Elizabeth. Henry’s eyes were safely on his phone, which he was no doubt using to send a strongly worded email to the airline that had wronged him. “And I _told_ your father to be more assertive and try to get us a later flight – goodness knows he’s got the clout for it-“

“Anne, we’ve been _through_ this,” Henry cut across her, pinching the bridge of his nose, which Elizabeth knew he did in an attempt to keep his temper under control – she did the same thing. “I contacted every airline, private and commercials, and there were _no other flights_ until the next day. What were we supposed to do, sleep in the airport?” 

“Well, there’s no use fighting about it now, is there? You’re here now, aren’t you?” Elizabeth quickly added her voice to the mix before her mother could retaliate. Elizabeth was old enough to realize that her parents fought more than perhaps was usual for a married couple. It used to upset her as a child – more than once her babysitter Kat had to comfort her about it – but now she just found it wearisome. Besides, the last thing she needed was her father to storm into another room, ranting, and run into an ill-dressed Robert Dudley. “And it can’t have been _all_ bad – you were in Italy! How was that?”

Anne waved away her question and turned to her daughter with a fond expression, “I need a bit of time to decompress before I launch into tourist tales. Besides, it was mostly boring conferences. How were things over here, love? Were you okay for a week on your own?”

“Well, I’m still alive,” Elizabeth said motioning to herself and grinning. Even her father, still glued to his phone screen, chuckled. “Kat came over a couple times to help make food. She wanted to make sure my diet was more than Flakes and prawn cocktail crisps.”

“Bless her, remind me to give her a raise the next time I see her,” Anne said, getting up and stretching. Elizabeth felt her heart race with panic because beyond Anne’s outstretched arms, she could see Robert’s figure slowly creeping into view. His usually warm, olive skin looked ashy grey with nerves.

“Do anything fun as well?” Anne asked.

At this, Elizabeth saw a bit of colour return to Robert’s face as he pressed his lips together trying not to laugh. Elizabeth tried to send him the subtlest murderous look she could muster.

“Yeah, I suppose you could – SAY THAT!” Elizabeth yelled suddenly, jumping up onto the coffee table in a desperate attempt to divert her father’s attention – her father who was just about to turn around towards the hallway. It certainly worked, both Anne and Henry looked at Elizabeth as though she had taken leave of her senses. More importantly, away from Robert.

Robert recognized his chance and seized it, quickly but quietly tip-toeing around the staircase, making a beeline towards the back door. Elizabeth hoped to God her parents would not hear the door opening and closing.

“Elizabeth, what on _earth_ are you doing?” Henry asked.

“Er – sorry – I thought I saw a mouse,” Elizabeth lied, feeling her face burn with embarrassment at the abysmal lie. Surely she could do better than _that_. She hopped off the table as nonchalantly as she could.

“A mouse? You who used to bring frogs _into the house_ when you were seven to ‘study them?’” Anne said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but – mice can be dirty and carry all sorts of diseases – ever heard of the Black Death?”

“That was rats, not mice.”

And Elizabeth knew that perfectly well. She was top of her class in A-level History.

“Yeah – well – still, they’re gross – _anyways_ – “ She tugged on her mother’s hand, pulling her towards the kitchen. In the hallway, Elizabeth chanced a glance towards the back door and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was closed and safely without Robert. “Let me make you a cup of tea, mum, so you can ‘decompress’ as you put it. And then you can tell me about Italy because it’s not like I got up to anything interesting over here.”

Anne laughed as her daughter putted around, gathering the tea, kettle, milk and sugar. Henry seemed to have already forgotten about his daughter’s little performance – perhaps chalking it up to teenaged _weirdness_ – and was already on the phone with some airline representative, giving them a piece of his mind. As Elizabeth poured the water into the kettle, listening to her mother’s stories, she felt her phone vibrate in her pyjama pocket. Her heart leapt to her throat and she fished it out immediately. Her parents wouldn’t find this odd, she was always checking her phone.

It was Robert.

**just got to the bus station, we did it!!!!**

Elizabeth had to restrain herself from laughing out loud with relief. She couldn’t believe that had _worked_.

**also, ‘i saw a mouse’??? really??????**

Ungrateful bastard.

_Piss right off, I’d like to see you come up with something better!_

**next time we’re going to my house it’s way safer**

_You literally have six siblings one of whom is one of my best friends are you shitting me_

**yes but my room locks ;)**

She didn’t deign that with a response but she couldn’t help the grin the spread across her face nor the warm fluttering inside her chest.

“What are you smiling about?” Anne asked with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow.

“Mary’s telling me about her date with Harry Sidney last night,” Elizabeth lied smoothly, back on her A-game, “Loads of juicy gossip.”

Anne chuckled and Elizabeth carried on making tea. 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to any of them. Robert’s great escape was not quite as stealthy as they thought. From across the street, Mrs Northcott heard the rustle of tires on asphalt and curiously peeked out from behind her paisley curtains. She knew the Tudors were not supposed to return home from their trip till much later on that day – Mrs Tudor had told her herself at the checkout line at Waitrose. Mrs Northcott hadn’t thought much of it until she chanced another glance out the window as she was washing the dishes and saw a most scandalous sight – a young man leaving the house from the garden, shoes in hand and casting furtive looks behind him.

“Oooh, would you look at that!” Mrs Northcott said out loud, glancing over at her husband who sat on the sofa, reading a book with his glasses perched halfway down his nose “I reckon young Miss Tudor is up to no good!”

“Why do you say that, my dear?” Mr Northcott asked with barely a shred of actual interest as he lazily turned a page.

“Her parents just got home now and it seemed she wasn’t quite prepared for their early arrival – nor was the handsome young man who is fleeing the house as we speak.”

Even this caused Mr Northcott to look up and raise his eyebrows. “Is that so? I’m rather surprised. I always thought she was a prim and proper sort of girl.”

“So did I – I wonder what Margery will think about this …”

“Don’t go gossiping now, my dear. The girl’s just having a bit of fun.”

“Oh hush, I’m not gossiping. I’m merely … discussing the news.”

Mr Northcott rolled his eyes and returned to his book while his wife joyfully went over the list of friends she would certainly be telling this to at the next pub night.

**Author's Note:**

> So one of the many myths I've heard about the historical Elizabeth was that she was afraid of mice and once jumped up on a table shrieking when she saw one. Not only have I never once seen a source for this, along with the fact that mice and rats were probably a common sight in the sixteenth century, even in palaces, but I find it hard to believe that a woman who has stared death in the face would be afraid of a rodent. And yet, they even have a scene of Elizabeth doing just that in The Virgin Queen so I added the "I thought I saw a mouse" as a little joke/nudge towards that ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, the Northcotts are not based on anyone in history, I literally just searched English surnames until I found one sufficiently posh-sounding. They are admittedly rather one-dimensional and stereotypical of a nosy middle-aged English couple but they’re meant more to just symbolize the constant gossiping that surrounded the real Elizabeth and Robert rather than being fully fleshed-out characters. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
